


The Art of Genius

by WildKitsune



Series: My Works in Progress [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Healer Hermione Granger, Manipulation, Slow Burn, Voldemort survives Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitsune/pseuds/WildKitsune
Summary: Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione is working on a team of healers to help find a cure to a new wizarding disease.  An imprisoned Lord Voldemort offers the help of his considerable genius but only if Hermione consents to be his handler.





	1. Black Soul Delirium

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- I realize I have absolutely no self-control. The first chapter is a bit on the short side, but I hope you like it.

“Hello Veronica, how are you feeling today?”  Hermione asked as she checked the girl’s vitals.

“Sleepy.”  The patent answered with a slight slur.

“I know, that is the medicine.”  She explained as she held the twelve-year-old girl’s hand up for inspection.  Hermione’s heart sank as she noted the very tips had started to darken in color.

“I don’t like it, Healer Granger.”  Veronica shook her head and frowned up at the woman.  “It feels weird all the time.”

“I know, only a little longer.”  Hermione lied and smiled at the girl.  There was no reason to frighten her, no reason to make her last few days of sanity any more uncomfortable than they already were. When the girl started to shake, she administered another dose of sleeping aid and headed back to her lab.

By the time she made it back to her desk, she was already writing the new symptoms down in the girl’s file.  With Veronica, it made six cases in the last three months, and they were still no closer to figuring out where the new illness had come from or any way of even slowing its progression.

Hermione had been put on the Black Soul Delirium’s team right out of her internship, and though she had had high hopes in the beginning, with each new case, hope died a little more.  Veronica was the youngest victim so far, but without being able to tell how the disease spread, there was no hope she would be the last.

When she set aside her notes, she saw a message from the lead Healer on her team and opened it with a frown.

_ See me in my office as soon as you are able. _

The message was direct, and to the point, it was one of the few things she liked about the old Healer.  She set down her work and headed to his office. He wouldn’t call her away from her tests if it weren’t something important.  Maybe there had been some breakthrough. Perhaps she wouldn’t be forced to does a twelve-year-old with the Draught of Living Death in the morning.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”  She asked as she stood in the Healer’s doorway.  To her surprise, the Minister of Magic himself sat across from her superior.  She smiled at Kingsley tiredly and looked between the two men with confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“The Minster has brought something to our attention that needs serious consideration.  Please close the door; this is of a sensitive nature.” Healer Thumblewick ordered as he motioned to the door and then the chair next to Kingsley.

Her smile disappeared at the hardened look in her friend’s eyes.  With a simple nod, she closed the door and took her seat next to the Minister.

“This offer was sent to my office three days ago.  I want you to know that I seriously considered burning it and never letting you see it.”

“What is it?”  She asked, getting worried from the haunted look in Kingsly’s eyes.  “What could be so bad?”

“The only reason I am passing it on is I know how serious we need to take this Black Shivers threat while the victim count is still relatively low.”

“Someone is offering help?  How could that be bad? What does that have to do with me?”  Hermione asked as she started to get frustrated that he hadn’t answered any of her questions.

“I think you should just show her the letter, Mr. Minster.”  Thumblewick offered, and Hermione found herself on the edge of her seat at the man pulled a scroll from the desk and handed it to her.

It had a green seal that had been broken, and the image in the wax made her stomach drop.  She suddenly knew precisely why Kingsly hadn’t wanted to show her the message. It had been three years since Harry had subdued the Dark Lord.  Three years with him locked away in the very bowels of Azkaban. Three years was now long enough to forget or forgive the horrors he had set upon the world.

“You have got to be kidding me!”  She snapped as she shot to her feet.  She didn’t even want to touch the scroll, let alone read it.  “What could  _ he _ possibly have to offer?  Who’s letting him write letters at all?!”

“Hermione.  Just read it.  You know I wouldn’t bring something like this to you if it wasn’t possibly worth it.”  Kingsley held the scroll out towards her.

She snatched the letter from the minister’s hand, and her boss made a displeased sound in the back of his throat.  They didn’t exactly get along regularly, but she knew he was at least a competent Healer.

She took a breath before opening the letter and looking over the perfectly neat handwriting she knew all too well.  After the war was over, Hermione had made it her mission to score the Hogwarts archives for every piece of anything Tom Riddle had ever written.  With him still alive, she knew they couldn’t rest. They needed to be prepared for his next wave of horror when it came. Her report had been laughed at by most, but Kingsley had taken it with the gratitude of someone who knew the danger they still faced.

_ Mr. Minsiter, _

_ I wish to offer a gesture of goodwill.  It has come to my attention that the wizarding world has a new threat to the safety of wizards, such as myself.  After much consideration on how I could best serve the wizarding world, I have come up with what I feel is a fair proposal. I wish to speak to Miss. Hermione Granger on what it would cost the Ministry for my help in this matter.  I will only make my offer to Miss. Granger herself and I will know if you choose to send some imposter in her stead. I am sure your advisors have told you how much time means when fighting a new illness, and you are an intelligent enough man to know how much time my brilliance could save in lives. _

_ ~Lord Voldemort _

“How did he know?” Hermione asked as she looked between the two men.  They both looked unimpressed.

“I am sure his guards told him about the disease.  It has been all over the papers this month.”  Thumblewick said dismissively.

“Wizards like myself’”  She read the message to the two men who still looked clueless.  She sighed. “The only connection any of the victims have is that they are all of mixed blood.  They all have one magical parent and one muggle. Just like him. That little gem hasn’t been in the papers.”

Kingsley frowned as he considered what she had to say while Thumblewick looked unimpressed.

“I think you are reading too much into the line.  What is important here is that he is willing to help, and we are at a dead end.”  The Healer pointed out, making Hermione frown all the more. He wasn’t wrong.

“There is no doubt in my mind this is some kind of trap, but I don’t think we can dismiss the offer either.  Not with what could be at stake.”

“You want me to go to Azkaban to see him myself.  Go see exactly what he wants to help us here?” Hermione asked, but she already knew the answer.

“Why is this even a question?” Thumblewick hissed.  “We are talking about the most brilliant mind alive in the world today if he wishes to help. If he could be useful than we could save lives. We could stop this before it truly becomes an epidemic.  You are going.”

“The choice is hers”  Kingsley pressed as he eyed the older man.  “She would be the one taking the main risk here.”

“What risk?  He’s locked up in the most secured cell ever created in wizard history.  She is playing messenger, that is all. You will do this.” Thumblewick turned on her.

“I can do it.”  She agreed before Kingsley could yell at her superior any more.  “He’s right. It’s only taking a message.” She said even as Hermione thought of what she would say to the mass murderer when she saw him.

She wasn’t playing this game.  It was far too risky to even think of accepting Voldemort's offer, but if she told them what she planned to say they would probably stop her from going.

“Are you sure?”  Kingsley asked one last time.

“She said she would do it; you can go as soon as you have your things together.  We want any information as soon as we can get it.”

“I’m sure.” Hermione agreed, feeling resolute as her plan formed in her mind.


	2. The Devil’s Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- Yep... not self-control at all

By the time the small boat that moved between the coast and Azkaban was tied off at the prison, Hermione was more than ready to have the trip over.  She felt a bit green from the travel over the choppy, and her nerves over facing the most dangerous wizard alive were churning as much as the sea.

It was a simple matter for a hero of the second wizarding war to find her way past the security of the main entrance to the prison.  She didn’t seem to need the papers that granted her access until she was already deep within its walls. Of course, Voldemort had his own security checkpoint, and Hermione was pleased she was stopped and questioned there, after breezing through everything else.

“I have permission to see the prisoner.”  She told the guard as she pulled out the papers signed by the Minster.  “I am on a fact-finding mission.” She explained as she handed over the documents.

The stone-faced guard looked over her papers then cast a few different authenticating enchantments on the parchment before nodding.

“Down this tunnel, the guard will secure you wand after the waterfall.”  He said as he handed the papers back to her.

“Thank you.”  She said pleasantly, even though she hadn’t drawn a single smile from the man.  It was probably thankless work to guard someone many thought should be executed.

She moved at a quick pace down the tunnel, her nerves not getting any better as she passed through the misery infused structure.  The Dementors had been banished from the island after the war, but that did not wash away the effect of hundreds of years of infestation.

When she got to the waterfall, the guard had mentioned Hermione realized she had to pass under it, and sighed as she allowed herself to get drenched it what was probably enchanted water.  She felt like a drown dog as she shook herself out on the other side only to face yet another door and guard window placed neatly beside it.

“Theive’s downfall.”  A cheerful voice said from the window.  “Looks like you are who you say you are.  Still, want to go see the old snake?” The female guard asked, and Hermione resisted the urge to shake her head.

“I’ve come this far.”  She said as she pulled out her wand to dry off her clothes and try to fix the mess of her hair.  She didn’t want to look frazzled when she faced the dark wizard.

“He doesn’t get many visitors, here for work or pleasure?”  The guard asked teasingly, and Hermione decided right then she liked the other guard better.

“Work.”  She spoke concisely, as she moved to the window.  “Will there be any more surprises?”

“Just the one.”  The guard said and motioned for Hermione to hold out her wrist.  “We’ve got to put the mark on ya if you want to get in or out without being crushed.”

“Oh, that sounds pleasant.”  She said dryly, as she held out her wrist.

“Just a bit of  sting.” The guard explained just before pressing a metal device into Hermione’s skin.  The feeling burned like a hot poker, and she had to fight the urge not to scream.

When she was done, Hermione looked at the mark on her skin; it was a simple rune of open, that had been altered with a glyph of stability.

“What is this?”  She asked, thinking she should have asked before she let the woman do it.

“It lasts twelve hours and gives you access to the cell.  If anyone tries to go in without it, they get swept away by the whirlpool.”

“I see.  Anything else I should know?”  Hermione asked as she stood a bit straighter.

“Your wand stays here.  It is just too big of a risk to have untrained personal that Voldemort could lift a wand from.  If there is any trouble, you come back here. We can’t see what is going on in the cell; the tides are too powerful for magic to pass through easily.  Probably best to stay away from the cage, he likes to play with people.”

“Pleasant,”  Hermione said dryly, as she handed over her wand. She understood the precaution even if she didn’t like the idea of being without her best tool in front of him.

With one last slow breath, Hermione turned towards the door and waited for the guard to unlock it before entering the final tunnel to the man who haunted most of her childhood nightmares.  She was just here to tell him exactly where he could put  _ his help _ .

She wiped her hands on the sensible slacks she wore as she walked.  They had taken her coat at the main entrance, and she ideally wished she had the extra layers of protection.  She usually wore wizarding robes to work, but she had felt it best to face the man and make her muggle heritage quite clear.  The cream blouse and gray slacks gave her the desired look that eased her nerves just a bit. She had the power here.

When she reached the wall of water, Hermione almost whimpered as she thought she was going to have to drown herself a second time, only to have the water pulled back and make a short tunnel through the sea itself.

As she looked up into the water, she could the constantly storming whirlpool that spin above Riddle’s cell.  When she got to the other side of the bridge, the sea closed the path behind her and joined the raging ocean.

The air smelled of clean salt spray, and she was too distracted by the bizarre beauty of the bubble to remember the snake at its heart until he cleared his throat.

She turned abruptly to face the man, and she couldn’t help the fact her throat went dry at the sight of him.  He looked exactly as she remembered from the battle at Hogwarts. His red eyes nearly glowed with intensity, and his thin, alien lips smirked in amusement.  Instead of the standard gray striped uniform of the rest of the prisoners, Voldemort wore black robes just as he had on the battlefield.

“Miss Granger, I presume?”  He asked as if he wasn’t entirely sure.  His eyes traveled over her as if he was either judging the rightness of his hypothesis or measuring her up; probably both.

“You are correct.  But I’m only here to tell you that we have no need of your assistance, and whatever you think you could get out of such a…”  He cut her off with a mocking laugh as he moved away from the brass bars of his cage. “What?” She snapped; she hated to be laughed at.

“You didn’t come all the way here to tell me no, little mudblood.”  He said as he sat down on a much too comfortable looking wingback chair.

Hermione’s frown deepened as she looked over the interior of the circular cell he occupied.  She had read over what she could of his security protocols, and she was sure that most of the furniture was wrong.

“How…”  She started as she took a step closer to the cell against her better judgment.  “Who’s gave you all of that?” She asked, changing her question at the last moment.

“Basic transfiguration and a bit of illusion.”  He preened seeming pleased she had noticed.

“You still have magic.” She said, and she could feel the blood run from her face.

“I have what I can do without a wand.  Minor tricks mostly, nothing to get me out of here, but it makes my stay more comfortable.”

“Fine.  Whatever.  I did what I came here to do.  I’m going now.” She said and turned to face the wall of water.

“We both know you’re not done yet, little mudblood.”  He mocked seeming all the more amused, the more she fought it.  “Ask me.” He ordered, making her swing back around.

“Ask you  _ what _ ?”  She snapped, her eyes narrowed as she fingers itched for her wand.

“What you came here to ask me.”  He said, his pleasant demeanor changing little in the face of her outburst.

“Why me?”  She asked a moment later, and he stood once more with a broad smile on his snakelike face.  That hadn’t been the first question on her mind, but it had been the first from her lips. “You don’t like Muggle-borns, and you certainly don’t know me.  You would have had much better luck getting the head of my department to agree with your little  _ goodwill gesture _ .  So why  _ me _ ?”

“I was curious.  I am rather bored here, you see.  Not much to do at the bottom of the abyss.”  He said, waving a hand dramatically around them.  “They call you the smartest witch of her age. I wanted to see what that meant.”

“Right.” She said, shaking her head and taking a step back.  “Well, now you have.” She said and turned again to leave.

“Not yet.  I have a test for you.”

“I want nothing to do with any of that.”  She snapped as she strode away.

“Find yourself some pink bloodroot.”  He called, as the bridge opened for her once more.

She strode confidently away from him, knowing she would never have to see him again.  She felt satisfied that she had faced the devil and not bent to his little games. She knew her superiors would be angry with her, but she was sure such bargains were more dangerous than they were worth.

Besides, everyone knew that bloodroot was a white and yellow flower.  His words made no sense what so ever. He was playing games with them all, and she, for one, was not going to dance to his tune.

Only.  If bloodroot grew in pixie fertile soil, it could turn pink under the right conditions.  But that meant very little. Hermione slowed as she approached the door that led back to the guard station; her mind was spinning as she couldn’t help but consider what that would do to the properties of the flower itself.

She stopped looking at the door back to the real world and nearly cursed as she found herself turning around and heading right back to that blasted man’s cell.  There was simply impossible for him to have come up with anything like what he had given her without seeing any of her files. Even with a full lab, Hermione hadn’t thought of using pink bloodroot, and neither had anyone on the team.

The moment she passed over the bridge again, she found the man laying on his bed with his eyes closed.  He looked up a little stunned as she stomped right up to the bars of his cell.

“ _ How _ could you have known that?  How could you know any of it?”  She asked with narrowed eyes.

He blinked at her a few times as if he had no idea what she was talking about only to have a slow smile once more form on serpentine lips.

“I don’t have a watch, but you couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes.”  He said, sounding completely delighted. “No access to your research, did you calculate it in your head?”

“You’re the one without access to my research.  How could you know that pink bloodroot could slow the first stage of the disease?”

“It was a guess, a guard or two may have mentioned some of the better-known symptoms.  Sounds like a quite nasty thing, which is why I am offering my brilliance.”

“No one is going to let you out of here.  Ever.” Hermione pointed still quite shaken that he could come up with something she was probably months away from figuring out herself.  She just needed to test it to make sure their hypothesis was right.

“Oh, I know.  But to have a project, something to  _ do _ , would be its own reward.”

“That’s all you want?”  She asked, narrowing her eyes at him in disbelief.

“I would need access to the research, and study material as I requested, of course with approval.  Maybe a few luxuries I am missing down in this hole? One can’t illusion themselves a good cup of tea.”

“Nothing else?”  She pressed, none of this made sense to her.

His hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist to pull her hard against the bars of his cage.  He smiled down at her as her breath caught. She had forgotten how close she was standing to his cell, and his grip was quite secure.

“If you hurt me, you get nothing.”  She said, working to sound brave.

“My final price is you.”  He said, giving her a bit of a smirk as he leaned in a little more and sniffed at the curls that had dislodged from their place in her braid.

“W-what?”  She breathed for a second, not understanding what he was asking.  There was just no way he wanted her  _ like that _ .

“You will be my handler and research partner on this project, and any I am to help with in the future.”

“Why?”  She gasped feeling off balance as she looked into the hungry red eyes of a monster.

“You passed my test.” He told her, almost purring as his free hand moved up to brush over her chin.  “Little mudblood.” He spoke the slur as if it was an endearment. “And more quickly than I could have imagined.  You will be quite a treat.”

“Unhand me or lose a finger.”  She said because showing fear to the predator in front of her was not an option. She could hear her heart racing in her ears, it was natural to be afraid, but there was something else in her bones she couldn’t quite place.

“We both know you’re going to say yes.”  He said, squeezing her arm with a bruising force before letting her go and stepping back from the bars.  “We both know even if you wanted to say no, which you don’t, your superiors will pressure you accepting my generous offer.”


	3. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- Nope... No self-control here...
> 
> Warning: Hermione has sex with someone that is not Voldemort in this chapter.

All the way home, Hermione played the end of her conversation with the Dark Lord over and over again in her head.  She should have turned him down flat. She shouldn’t have told her superiors the details of his offer. He was right of course, not only did Healer Thumblewick strongly urge her to work with him, but Minister Shacklebolt pressed as well.

People were dying, and if Voldemort had an answer, they were willing to deal with the devil.  Hermione looked down at the handprint on her arm and frowned to herself as she thought of what that devil was capable.  Would she be safe? Was her safety worth more than the lives they should save by taking his help? How much faster could they cure the outbreak working together?

Thumblewick had told her to take the rest of the day off to think it over.  He had put the decision entirely on her shoulders, saying that he understood what it would mean for someone like her to have to work directly with Voldemort. But Hermione knew Kingsley must have threatened him.

All Hermione wanted to do was start up the research on the pink bloodroot, but the Healer had insisted he could start the project and it would be well on its way by the time she returned in the morning.

That did not stop her from spreading out her notes all over her kitchen table and start some of the calculations herself from home.  She didn’t notice when the front door opened and was deep into her mind when someone leaned over her shoulder to look at her notes.

Hermione jumped and blushed as she looked up at her fiance.  “You’re home early.” She said as she placed a hand over her racing heart.

“Late actually,”  Anthony said with a knowing smile.  “Should I order us some takeaway?” He asked, wryly.

Hermione blushed more deeply, knowing full well it was her turn to cook.  “Would you? I’ve had sort of a day.” She said, and her heart warmed as her partner nodded without complaint.

“Want to tell me about it?”  He asked as he headed over to where they kept their menus.  With Hermione at St Mungo’s and Anthony at the Ministry Archive, neither had a lot of extra time for things like cooking and housework.

“I really do.”  She told him weakly she rubbed her eyes and sat back, Hermione hadn’t realized how long she had been sitting in one place.  The new direction for her research had called to her like a siren, they could slow the suffering she was sure of it, and that would give them more time to find a cure for those infected.

“Breakthrough?”  He asked, knowing all the right questions.

“Somewhat.”  Hermione agreed because the potion they could build around the bloodroot wasn’t a cure.  “But I’m not allowed to talk about most of it. It involves a ministry classification now.”  She told him as he offered her the menu to her favorite Indian place and she just handed it back with a smile.  “The usual.” She said, getting to her feet to kiss his cheek.

“Well, I am glad the Ministry is finally using their resources to help with this.”  He said with a smile. “Those Unspeakables have a lot more than they are letting on.”  He told her seriously. Anthony’s department and the Department of Mysteries were always fighting over artifacts and tombs that fell into the Ministry’s hands.

“They come in with more requests today?”  She asked, knowing it was her turn to show interest in his work.

“Three of our newest crates, just hauled away because  _ they _ say they were part of a secret project.”  He said, rolling his eyes. “Then, of course, Mallow turns on me like I have any control over what they take.”

It was nice to hear his familiar ranting, and she kissed him again and stepped into him to rest her head against his shoulder.  “You know, it sounds like you need to relax. I’ll get the food. I need a walk anyway.” Hermione offered.

“Really?  I want to sit and read for a bit; it would really help.”  He said as he wrapped warm arms around her.

“Really.”  She agreed as she stepped away.  ‘Want the usual?” She asked as she took the menu back.

“Get me a four today, with an extra side of naan?”

Hermione nodded and gave him a quick peck on the lips before heading to get her coat.  The crisp fall air was lovely on her skin and did something to calm her as she walked to get their food.  They both felt more comfortable living in muggle London than in any wizarding section, but with how much magic they sued around the house they couldn’t get a working phone.  It meant going to the restaurant and ordering there. It was often an inconvenience, but tonight, Hermione felt like the stroll was precisely what she needed.

As she walked, she pushed up the sleeve of her coat and looked once again at the marks Voldemort had left on her skin.  They had spent less than an hour in the same room, and he had already hurt her.

She couldn’t help notice the fact that even now her heart was racing as she thought of the danger he represented to her.  If she agreed to his terms, there was no doubt she would suffer at his hands. It was clear he wanted to put a claim on her for some ridiculous reason.  But could she leverage that to save people’s lives?

_ My final price is you. _

It was obvious he wasn’t being honest.  He had to have some kind of plan to escape and regain his former glory.  But how could having her there play into that? She didn’t have any type of access.  She was a Healer, nothing more.

It all came down to one question: was the use of his brilliant mind, worth the risk of him getting free?  She could sacrifice her safety for the public good; she had done it throughout the war.

When she got to the restaurant, she pushed her sleeve down and tried to push the dark thoughts away as she ordered dinner and stepped aside to wait for them to prepare it.  When she was settled in her usual seat to wait for the food, she pulled out the book she brought to read and couldn’t focus on the words.

Without her research to distract her, all Hermione could think about where it had come from.  She played moments of their meeting over and over in her head trying to decipher her real motive, his actual plan.

_ You will be quite a treat. _

How did she play into his larger plans?  Why choose the least likely person to agree?  Why choose someone who wouldn’t be cowed by his very name?  He had flustered her, but he if thought she would bow to his will he would have another thing coming.

She ran her fingers over the loose curls and remembered how he had sniffed her.  What had that meant? Was he trying to keep her off balance? There had to be an angle she wasn’t seeing.

When the food was ready, she walked back to their flat feeling more distracted than before.  It didn’t go without her notice that she had made a decision, she would agree to his deal, but she knew she couldn’t walk in unprepared.

She was distracted enough forming and abandoning plans on how to deal with the Dark Lord that she had hardly noticed she was back at the flat.  She smiled as she found Anthony in their study reading and placed his order next to him before going back to the table she had claimed for her work that night.

She had a happy, stable home to come to each night.  If his plan was to keep her off balance and manipulate her into doing his will, he would find the task impossible.  There were no cracks for him to worm his way into. She was happy with her life.

She took a shower before bed that night, she couldn’t get the thought of Voldemort sniffing her out of her head, and she thought maybe she could at least wash it away.  She healed the bruises on her arm before Anthony could see and ask about them. They had been a reminder of the pain the Dark Lord could cause, but she had made her decision, there was no reason to keep them after that.

Anthony was sitting in bed reading when she made it to their room, and she gave him a devilish little smile as she stole his book.  She knew exactly how to erase Voldemort’s touch from her thoughts and replace it with something far better.

“I figured you would be tired.”  He said as she slipped onto his lap and straddled his legs.  She had put her pajamas on in the bathroom, but that did not stop his hands from slipping up the back of her shirt.

“I need you.”  She told him as she leaned in and took a kiss, her pressing against the line of his.

He answered her kiss with his own, allowing her the freedom to explore as she wanted.  His hands moved to message down her spine but then shifted to pull down the bow shorts she wore.

After a year and a half of being together, they were well aware of the other’s needs and vulnerabilities.  Anthony knew she didn’t like him to see her scars when they made love, so he left it be. Hermione knew how much it turned him on when she was on top, so she often took control of their love life.

They moved like dancers were had every step of the routine perfectly timed, and soon she let out a low moan as she sank onto his waiting member.

“Yes.”  She gasped as they moved together as one, his hands moving under her shirt to massage her body and breasts as she rode him to her liking.

“Hermione.”  He moaned with his head falling back, giving her access to kiss the perfect spot on his neck.  “Merlin, I love you.” He gasped, and she moaned her agreement as she quickened her pace.

She ground herself against him as a hand moved between her legs as they quicked each other to the very edge.  She lost herself in the feel of his touch and the way he filled her. She tilted her head back, and he kissed along her jaw.  Sex was one of the few times she could turn everything off and enjoy the moment.

_ Little mudblood. You will be quite a treat. _

Voldemort’s voice invaded her mind just as she was falling over the edge into orgasm and she had nothing to clear his face so close to hers from her mind as her body writhed in the pleasure her fiance gave her.

She whimpered and hid her face in his neck as she worked to catch her breath after.

“Darling, are you okay?”  Anthony asked his gentle hands, soothing her back.

“Work crept in.”  She answered and leaned back to look at him.  She felt uncomfortable with the fact that the intrusion hadn’t ruined her climax. She didn’t want to analyze that piece of data.

“It was good, though?”  He asked as he leaned up and kissed her lips lightly.

“So good.”  She agreed as she slipped off of him.  “Just the thing I needed.” She told him with a smile.

“Miss Granger, are you using me for my body?”  He asked, playfully. Hermione laughed and kissed him again before getting comfortable on her side of the bed.

“Of course.”  She said with a laugh, the moment passed as she snuggled next to him.  “Let’s just get some sleep.”


	4. Adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Bright and early the next morning, Hermione found herself standing in front of the thief's downfall wondering how she was ever going to get used to this part of the security process.  She held the lid on the box she carried tightly as she rushed under the water.

“You’re back.”  The same female guard from the day before greeted her, with an express Hermione couldn’t quite read.

“They didn’t warn you I was coming?”  Hermione asked as she dried herself and checked the contents of the box.

“They did.”  She said as she took Hermione’s wand and checked it into a secure box before pulling out a similar device to what had marked her arm the day before.  “You just didn’t seem like the type to fall for his little games.”

“I am well aware of his games, and I do not plan to fall for them. Thank you.”  She said stiffly as she shifted her box so she could hold out her wrist.

“Right.”  The woman looked more amused than anything.  “I’ve been told to give you a guard level rune.  It’s going to last thirty days, and gives you access to all levels of his security.”  She said, waving the device in her hand. “But I suggest you stay out of the cage. Blood or not no one knows how long it’s been since he’s gotten a good shag.”

“Right.”  Hermione agreed dryly.  When the guard pressed the end to her wrist, the pain was more intense than it had been the day before, but it was also short-lived.

“Did they explain that I am going to need help setting up each day?”  She asked as she held up the box. Normally she wouldn’t need help, but with her wand locked away, she would need someone with magic.

“They did.”  The woman eyed the box and motion Hermione through the same door as before.

The guard exited her station through a door inside the tunnel and met Hermione on her way in.  They walked in silence down the tunnel, and the guard didn’t even pause as she walked straight onto the bridge, the water pulling away from her before it ever had a chance to touch.

“If it isn’t the lovely Hammerfell.  What brand of annoyance are we up to today?”  Voldemort asked before he saw Hermione follow the woman in.  “Oh you’ve brought me a present, well this is a change.”

“Enjoy what you can, old man.”  The guard said as she walked up to his cage and tapped her wand against one of the bars.

Voldemort who had been relaxing in his wingback chair from the day before swung back and toppled to the ground as the chair reverted into a simple metal stool.

Hermione blinked at the Dark Lord hissed, his black robes turned back into the gray uniform of the rest of the prisoners.

“Just reset the magic in his pin,”  Hammerfell explained as her astonished look.  “One of the perks of the job. Now, what do you need to set up?”  She asked as Hermione opened the box.

“I have two tables and several resource materials that need to be returned to their original state.”  She explained, trying to keep a straight face as the Dark Lord struggled with his anger at the guard.

“I can handle that.”  She said with a sigh and floated the tables, files, and books out of the back, arranging them neatly before enlarging them once again.  “You all set?” She asked, looking as if she didn’t want to spend a second more in Voldemort’s presence than she had to.

“Yes.  Thank you.”

“Right.”

Hermione only turned back to her new research partner once the guard was gone.

“Did the childish prank amuse you?”  He asked dryly. He had already transfigured his clothes back to the black robe he preferred.  “It is a measure set in place to keep me from doing harmful magic. Is my comfort harmful to someone?”

“Maybe she thinks so,”  Hermione said as she picked up the patent files.  “They’ve agreed to your terms, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.  But before I give this to you, I want to know one thing.”

“Oh?  I thought you might have your own terms.”  He said with a smile.

“How did you know about their blood status?”  She asked, looking at the man seriously as she purposefully stood outside of his reach.  “If you lie to me I am leaving right now.”

“Is that one of your demands?  I’m not allowed to lie to you?”  He asked instead of answering her.

“It’s a good start.”

“Agreed, but only if you give me the same courtesy.”

“That’s reasonable.  Are you going to answer the question?”

“If you agree to answer a question of mine.”  He said, stepping up to the bars and looking down at her from his greater height.

“You first.”  She pressed, and he only smiled down at her like he had caught her in some kind of trap.

“One of my more chatty guards is in a relationship with a girl named Ashly.  I don’t know the last name, but she is a nurse on your project. The guard's name is Tether if you would like to check my story.”

Hermione looked into his eyes as he spoke; he seemed almost bored with his answer.  “I will. What’s your question?”

“I think I’ll save it, till I have something I really wish to know.”  He said, looking satisfied. “The files?” He asked, holding his hand out.

She handed them over, then turned to go back to the work she had brought for herself. She hadn’t thought to bring herself a chair, so she hopped up to sit on one of the tables as she went over the notes Healer Thumblewick had made on the new potion they were developing with Voldemort’s suggestion.

She didn’t know how long she had been marking up her superior’s report when she was brought out of her focus by the clearing of a throat.  She looked up at the Dark Lord and realized he must have finished his reading.

Hermione had made herself more comfortable over time.  She had let her shoes slip off to the floor and was sitting cross-legged on the table so she could take notes more easily.  When she looked up at the man trying to get her attention, she found he was not looking at her face, but the opening of her skirt.

“Have any initial thoughts?”  She asked, setting her work aside and quickly dropping her feet off the table so she could close her legs.

“These are all the patent notes from you and all those on this team of Healers?”  He asked, waving the full files at her.

“Yes.”  She agreed, wondering where the conversation was going.

“The person who writes in blue, this handwriting.”  He said, holding up one of the files and pointing to a section.  Hermione got off the table so she could get a closer look at which notes he was talking about.

“What about them?”  She asked as she recognized who he was referring to.

“All of your co-workers are varying levels of idiot, but that one should be fired and replaced with someone that isn’t also stealing supplies.”  He suggested making Hermione frown more deeply.

“What are you talking about?”  She asked, moving closer so she could take the file from him.

“In four out of six of these files that person repeats procedures, others have already administered.  Either those four people are dead, and no one thought to mark that down, or the person is not performing as they reported and pocketing the supplies.  You all have been working with some expensive potion ingredients. It is not a surprise someone got a bright idea. I wouldn’t have even pointed it out if I thought the person had any value for the project going forward.”

“I’ll make a note of it, Thumblewick can decide how to move forward.”  She said with a frown. “Are you done with the rest?” She asked as she couldn’t dispute the claim from what she had just seen.

“I’d like to keep them here, I thought they were my copies, are they the only copies?”  He asked, holding his hand out for the file still in her hand.

“They’re our copies.  They’re magiced to update whenever someone updates the ones back at the hospital, but I am unsure if it will work down here.”  She said, looking at the spinning water around them.

“Ahh yes, magic doesn’t escape from this prison.”  He said thoughtfully. “You can take them out to update them as needed, but I would prefer to have them on hand if I get ideas while you’re not here.”

She sighed and handed the file back.  She couldn’t dispute the logic.

“What are you working on over there?”  He asked motioning with his head to the file she had been reading.

“You’re suggestion.  Healer Thumblewick started on the potion yesterday; I’m just making notes on his ideas.”

“I am  _ sure _ the Healing Master simply loves to have his ideas edited by a twenty-one-year-old mudblood,”  Voldemort said, sounding delighted. “Let me see.”

“Stop using that word.”  She said without moving from her spot.

“No.”  He countered and tilted his head.  “Get used to the sound of it, my little mudblood.  Because it is what you are. And I am sure it hasn’t gone outside your notice that Healer Thumblewick thinks the same.”

“You’re the one who asked for me.  If I am such an inferior, why not work with pureblood Thumblewick and have done with it?”

“Two reasons.  First being that he is an idiot.  Second, he wouldn’t look nearly as good in your skirt.”

She narrowed her eyes on him and made a mental note to never wear a skirt down to his cell again.

“I’m not here for your viewing pleasure.”

“Aren’t you?”  He asked with a knowing smirk.  “I want to see the notes you’ve made on his work.”  He said, bringing their conversation back to its origin.

“I’m not through it yet.”  She stood her ground, unsure how to respond to his overt objectification.  She wasn’t used to having to deal with it, she had grown up the nerd girl who didn’t get looked at twice, and now she was  _ the _ Hermione Granger who was too intimidating for most men to consider pretty.  Even Anthony spent more time talking about her mind, and she liked that.

“I have some resource material on similar illnesses from the past.  You could start on those while I finish with this.” She suggested as she headed back to the table to retrieve the books she had brought for him.  Ignoring it seemed the best course of action for the moment.

“I’m not interested in reading resource material; I wish to know what the fine Healing Master has to say about my suggestion.”  He countered stubbornly.

“Well, then you can sit there in silence until I finish with his paper.”  She said offering the books to him; she could be just as stubborn if not more.

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, him refusing to take the offered books and her refusing to provide anything but.

When her arm got too tired to hold them, Hermione set the books on the ground within his reach and turned to go back to sit in the table so she could finish her work.

She was finishing up her notes when a guard Hermione didn’t know came in with two trays.  “I didn’t quite believe you had a guest down here.” The man said with a pleasant tone and a smile for Hermione.  “They told me to bring you something as well.” He explained the second tray.

“You can set it down on the table Mac,” Voldemort said from his cell.  He was sitting on the once again transfigured wingback chair reading. The books she had left for him had moved to his table, but it looked as if he was reading something else.

“Sure thing.”  The man answered pleasantly.  He set Hermione’s tray down on the closet work table then opened the Dark Lord’s cell to set the food on the small table next to the books.

Voldemort made no move towards the door or the man as he went about his business.  When the man closed the door behind himself, Hermione moved over to him to speak in a soft tone.

“Is that safe?”  She asked, not wishing the guard to risk himself.

“Him?” He asked, looking over to Voldemort.  “He’s the best-behaved prisoner on my route.”  He chirped. “He can’t get out even if I leave the door open.  If someone crosses the threshold without one of these…” The man pointed to the rune on his wrist.  “...then the whirlpool slams in on the cage, crushing anything and anyone in its path.”

“Oh.”  She nodded and glancing up at the constantly moving water.  They were deep enough that it was likely to kill the person instantly.

Once the guard had left Hermione cleared her throat and walked over to the cell.  “I’ve finished now.” She announced as she held out the file to him.

Voldemort looked up from his book with an unreadable expression on his face and casually stood.  He stalked towards the bars with such a menacing stance Hermione had to fight not to step back. She reminded herself that she was the one with the power.  He snatched the file out of her hand and started to look at it without moving back to his seat.

Hermione found herself watching his face as he methodically took in Thumblewick’s report and her notes on it.  She had never really thought of Voldemort as a thoughtful man, but as she watched, she could see his mind racing just as hers always did.  She shook off the feeling of connection and forced herself to turn her back on the scene so she could work on her notes from the night before.

She was approaching the idea from a different direction, and though she had learned not to tell her superiors that they were wrong, it did seem to her his approach wouldn’t work.  She was so deep into her work by the time Voldemort spoke that she jumped a little in surprise.

“So he wishes to kill all your patents more quickly?”  Voldemort asked with a sneer on his face. “Bloodroot is a poison, making a potion from it would be toxic.”

“I realize, but he does dilute it with several healing herbs that should counter the toxicity.”

“Ah yes, so it won’t kill the subjects, only incapacitate then, all the while not having its intended effect.  None of your notes directly point out the futility of this mixture, but they are all quite demure nudges away from this course of action.  I assume you’ve devised your own method?”

She absolutely hated the part of her that was pleased with the way he praised her intelligence.  She had thought she had gotten over the need for constant approval when she graduated from school.

“I have some ideas.”  She said casually.

“Let me see them.”  He ordered as he tossed Thumblewick’s notes aside absently.

She sighed and worked to stamp down her nerves as she moved to hand over the file in her hand.

“They’re not complete yet; I haven’t had the chance to test any of my findings.”  She prefaced working not to blush as she couldn’t help hold her breath as he took the file.

She watched him read this time; there was a substantial part of her that needed to know what the brilliant wizard thought of her ideas.  He spoke as if the world were filled with idiots, and it made her want to prove to him she wasn’t one of them. That part of her didn’t care that he was a homicidal madman; it only recognized that he was an unquestionable genius.

He glanced up at her watching him, and a slow smile once again appeared on his alien face.  “You are simply adorable.” He said, sounding delighted by a new discovery.

“What?”  She asked blushing and taking a step back from him.  “It’s just that you’ve taken all my reading material.”  She defended.

“Right.”  He shook his head.  “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other?”  He asked as he called her out.

She could feel her face heating all the more as he caught her lie.  “Fine. I’m curious to know what you think.” She said, trying to seem unphased.

“I have my question.”  He said instead of answering her.

“What?”  She asked, thrown by the odd comment.

“You owe me an answer to a question.  I’ve just thought of one.” He explained seeming highly amused with himself.

“Oh.  Right.  W-what do you want to know?”  She asked, knowing it was only fair to answer as he had, but also knowing it couldn’t lead anywhere good.

“Back in school, Hogwarts or Healing training, did any of your professors take advantage of this praise kink of yours?”  He asked, curiously.

“My what?”  She asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

“I could imagine you being quite the susceptible student with such a high desire for approval.  I wish to know if I’ll be the first to take advantage of it.”

She swallowed and frowned at him as she tried to figure out precisely what he was asking.  “Everyone likes to get good grades.” She countered not quite getting what he was asking.

“Yes.”  he rolled his eyes but didn’t seem upset by her confusion.  “But I wish to know if any of your mentors over the years have used your desire for approval to temp you into sinful situations?”

“You want to know if I had sex with any of my professors?!”  She asked, trying very hard not to sound flustered.

“Correct.”  He agreed as he gave her his full attention.

“No.  I’ve never had a highly inappropriate relationship with any of my teachers!”  She said, shaking her head.

“Good.”  He nearly purred as his attention shifted back to the folder in his hands.

“I’m not going to have an inappropriate relationship with you either.”  She snapped at his arrogant pride.

“Don’t worry; it will be quite appropriate.”  He answered distractedly.

“I’m engaged.”  She pointed out and held up the engagement ring Anthony had given her a few months before.

Voldemort’s attention snapped up to look at her hand as if he had never noticed the ring before.  “To the redhead?” He asked with a frown.

“Ron?  No.” She said, scrunching up her face as she thought about that doomed relationship.  They made much better friends.

“Who?”  He pressed on, and she shook her head.

“I’m not going to tell you that, and you already used up your question.”  She pointed out, holding her chin up.

Voldemort looked almost agitated for a moment, but in the end, he gave her a smug smile.  “Of course, you’re right.”

She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Right.” She agreed, and with his attention back on her work, she decided to go eat the lunch the prion had provided.


	5. Locked In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N- The self-control is very low today...

Hermione moved to the table with her lunch and sat on it again so she could pick at the simple food the prison had provided.  It didn’t at all keep her from sneaking looks at Voldemort and wondering what he thought of her ideas.

He had made himself comfortable, picking at his own food as he read through each page carefully.  She was pretty sure he was taking more time with her notes then he had all of the patent files put together.

When she had run out of things to pick at on her tray, she moved to other reading material she had brought down for herself to work on and look through.  She tried not to think of what was taking him so long when she realized quite some time had passed.

“It’s been hours.  It doesn’t take you this long to read anything.”  She snapped, pushing herself back to her feet.

“Has it?”  He asked as he glanced at a clock sitting by his bed.  “Well, I think that is enough for today. You may leave Miss. Granger.  I will see you in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you think.”  She said before looking at the clock, it was nearly four, which seemed like a ridiculous hour to quit.

“I’m not done yet; I promise to have my thoughts fully organized by morning.  Now go.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No.  You’re going to tell me now.”  She told him firmly as she stomped over to his cell.

“If you know what is good for you, Miss Granger, you will listen to me and leave right this moment.  Now.” He ordered, his eyes nearly glowing with the intensity of his tone.

“Not until we can talk about my ideas.”  She pressed back firmly. She may be more than a head shorter than the man, but she was not going to let him intimidate her.

They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills until the sound of grinding stone startled Hermione and Voldemort hissed under his breath.

“Miss Granger, you need to come inside the cell.”  He said, sounding a bit too calm.

“What?  No.” She said as she looked around for the source of the sound.

“That was the bridge securing itself.  Next, the whirlpool with close in on the cage and crush anything on the outside.”

“You’re lying; they would have told me about something like that.”  She said though he spoke in a positive tone.

“None of my plans include having you being crushed against the bars of my cell, Miss Granger.  Get your ass in here.” He hissed becoming agitated in a way she hadn’t seen before.

She could see the water starting to shift, but she still delayed wondering if she could make it to the bridge instead.

“They’ve locked it down; it won’t open.  There is no time left.” The man said, sounding a bit panicked.

She moved around the cell quickly then and fought with the handle of the door as her hands shook and she kept looking up.  When the lock finally released for her, the water was already rushing down. She screamed as it flooded the space she still stood, but thankfully instead of crushing her, it washed her into the cell.

She looked up at her worst enemy from her spot on the ground of his cell.  She must look like a drowned rat, but at least she was alive.

“It seems your stubbornness is a gift that continues to bloom new wonders my little mudblood.”  He said with a smirk, looking down at her from his great height, making her feel even smaller.

“You could have warned me.” She said as she sat up.  She was shivering from the of his cold cell, her whole body soaked with freezing sea water.  “How long until I can leave?”

“I told you to leave.”  He reminded her without emotion as he offered his hand to help her to her feet.  “The reset lasts three hours.”

Hermione ignored the hand and pushed herself up onto her feet.  She was forced to take a step back from the man as he gave her little room to maneuver.

“T-three h-hours?”  She confirmed as her whole body shook and stuttered her words.

“And though I am thoroughly enjoying the view of the pale pink lace, we should probably get you into something dry, so you don’t catch your death down here.”

Hermione looked down at her now completely translucent blouse as it clung to her skin and quickly covered herself with her arms.

“A hot shower would probably be advisable as well.”  He added seeming amused by her predicament.

She looked over to his shower area; it was without any privacy screen; he was a prisoner; after all, he was given no privacy for the sake of security.

“I have a sleep shirt you can change into.”  He offered lightly as if she was not in the most mortifying and dangerous situation of her entire life.

“You promise not to peek?”  She asked knowing she did get to get out of her wet things and she didn’t want the salt to dry on her skin if she was going to be stuck here for hours.

“No.  I absolutely plan on enjoying the show.”  Voldemort said without shame. With a wave of his hand, he turned his comfortable chair so that it was facing the shower area.

“You could just dry my clothes.”  She said remembering only then he had access to wandless magic.

“I am pleased you have such faith in my magical prowess, but what would be in it for me to expend such energy?  As it stands, it seems much more to my enjoyment to watch you have to deal with this on your own.” He pointed out as he took a seat.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and if looks had any effect, he would be a pile of cinders as she burned him alive.  “You’re sick.” She said as she stomped her foot, which just made him chuckle.

“No matter how close to the gods, I become Miss Granger, I am still a man, and you are still a quite attractive woman.  Did someone forget to tell you?” He asked and leaned forward as he allowed his eyes to travel over her form once more.  “Would you like me to show you?”

She flushed thinking about all the years she spent not being thought of as something to be desired.  She told herself she didn’t care; she much rather be valued for her mind that her body and worked to shake off the spark his question sent to unmentionable places.

“If you let me shower to get the salt off my clothes and body then use your magic to dry me completely, what would you want?”  She asked, trying to cover her reaction to him.

“The privilege of asking you anything I like until you leave tonight.  And you must answer.” He said, leaning back again happily.

“I won’t answer anything I think would risk the safety or lives of anyone.”  She countered, she wasn’t about to make herself an open book to Harry’s secrets.

“A fair and intelligent stipulation.  I will have to touch you to use the drying spell.”  He warned as he held up his hands. “Wandless magic isn’t as exact.”

“Fine.”  She said as she turned to the shower to start up the hot water.  She needed to get out of the wet things as fast as she could. When she stepped under the heavy stream, she let out a sigh.  She had been left cold to the bone, the water had been so freezing, and she had to let herself thaw a bit, even though it felt weird to shower fully clothed.

Once she felt thoroughly warmed, she turned off the shower and stood above the drain as a dripping mess.  She turned back to see Voldemort watching her contently and remembered to cover her breasts as his eyes lingered on her chest.

A moment later, he pushed himself on to his feet and stalked slowly over to her, making her feel like the prey facing a dangerous predator.  Her heart started pumping as she stood perfectly still. She watched his red snake-like eyes as his hands hovered over her shoulders for a moment before he settled them on her shirt.  They were a lot warmer than she had expected and his pupils dilated as he ran gentle fingers up to the sides of her neck and let long digits tangle into her mass of soaking hair.

Hermione’s lips parted as he tugged at her scalp and collected the mane so he could dry it thoroughly.  She couldn’t stop the shiver she felt as he pinned her hair up with another spell and then ran light fingers down her neck and settled on her collar bone before he continued drying down her shoulders and arms.

He smirked as his hands moved around and down her back, pulling her just a bit closer as his hands ran down her back and over her ass, then down her legs.  She was no longer shaking from the cold by the time his firm hands moved to the front of her form and up over her stomach towards her aching breasts.

“Are you still cold?”  He asked smugly as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over hardened nipples even as he called her out for shivering against him.

“I’m fine”  She gasped and took a step away from him even as he body ached with the loss of his warmth.  “Thank you for drying me off.” She said as she tried to get herself under control once more.  “And since it seems I am stuck here another three hours I see no reason for us not to continue working.”  She pointed out as she stepped out of still wet shoes.

“An excellent point.”  Voldemort agreed and moved back to pick up where he had left her potion ideas.  “And you wish to know what I think of this?” He asked with a knowing smile when he looked back to her.

“The only reason I am here is to gain your insight into the work.”  She reminded him.

“You’re here for my pleasure.”  He reminded her and looked down at the file in his hand.  “It is a much better start than your superior's ideas. I assume you will do some testing soon and amend the report with your findings?”  He asked as he held the file out to her.

She narrowed her eyes as he had made such a big deal out of not being finished with it when it could have saved her from being stuck here with him.

“You have no ideas to add?”  She asked as he took his seat once more like a king on his throne.

He sighed as if she were bothering him with such questions.  “The ideas and findings are quite adequate, but they lack certain creativity that may get your further, faster.”  He said shrugging. “I was planning to write up my ideas tonight after I allowed myself the time to consider and give you a thorough report tomorrow.”

Hermione frowned at him as she put her hands on her hips.  “You wanted me as a research partner. I understand today you were getting a feel for what we have been working on, but if you don’t talk to me, then how are we supposed to work together efficiently?”

“I wished to read those before I made any further notes.” He said, pointing to the stack of research books she had brought for him.  “And I don’t feel you watching me read is the best use of this time, you’re going to have to wait to discuss the Bloodroot project further.  Your idea concerning the topical application is the better approach. But my concern is pairing it with the aloe and pepperflower won’t have the desired outcome.”

She couldn’t fault him for wishing to do more reading before getting too involved in an idea.  With a sigh, she let her hands drop from her sides.

“What  _ do _ you think is the best use of our time now?” She asked, curious despite herself.

“Getting a better understanding of each other and what this working relationship will look like would help from any further mishaps in the future.”  He said motioning to the water around them.

“I’m not going to follow your orders blindly.”  She countered, knowing precisely what he was referring to.  “I’m not your minion.” She added as she realized that their postures said otherwise.

She stood before him like a vassel asking for approval.  Looking around, she realized the only other place to sit was the bed.  It was impeccably made. As she got a better look at her surroundings, everything was immaculate and well organized.  Unlike the chaos that happened when she was deep into a project, Voldemort had placed the files in neat order on the small table.

With a sigh, she sat down on the bed, and the Dark Lord stiffened in his seat.  When Hermione looked down, she noted the way she wrinkled the bedding and tried not to smirk as she purposefully shifted and messed up his blanket a bit more.  She had to wonder if he maybe wasn’t so keen on her muggleborn ass touching his personal space or if it was only that she was messing his perfectly made covers.

“Feel better?”  Voldemort asked in a tone that gave away his annoyance.

“Yes.”  She said as she couldn’t help the pleased smirk from forming on her lips.  Finally, she got to unsettle him for once. It was a small victory, but it felt good nonetheless.

“It would be best if you didn’t have to question me at every turn.  More so when we inevitably start brewing, and there may need to change tactics midway and quickly.  I understand I will not be permitted to have contact with the type of ingredients we will need to work with, so you will have to be my hands functionally.  You will need to learn to be an extinction of my will.”

“In what world do you think I’m going to do that?  You chose the wrong witch if you thought that was what this job required.  I’m not some silly girl that is going to get flustered by your intellect and charm.”  She said, plucking his pillow off the end of the bed and placing it on her lap so that she had something to fidget with during their conversation.

She couldn’t help but notice the twitch in his face as his eyes followed her movements.  She wondered how long he would control whatever impulses were boiling under the surface.

A forced smile broke out over his face as he suddenly shot to his feet.  “You think yourself immune to my charm, Miss Granger?” He asked as if it was a dare.  “You think it has lost its hold over those around me simply because I am not as classically formed as I once was?”

Hermione swallowed as the phrasing of his words sent off little alarm bells in her head.

“Or might you think that my wit is still well-formed enough to manipulate those of average intelligence and lesser will?” He asked, walking around as he spoke.  She was stunned enough by the question that he was able to snatch the pillow from her lap before she realized what had happened.

He was quoting the paper she had written about him almost word for word now.  It had never occurred to her that he might get his hands on her work, and she wasn’t sure how to react to the development.

“You…”  She started as he towered over her with an unreadable expression.

“I…”  He started as he set the pillow aside and leaned down over her to intimidate her with his physical presence further.  “...wish to know if you read every single assignment of mine you could get your dirty little hands on?” He asked, his voice becoming a purr.

“What?”  She asked, her brain felt as if it was stalling out.

“You agreed to answer my questions.  How much of my work from over the years do you think you were able to gain access to?”

“Past professors had varying levels of organization.  If I were to estimate overall, I probably read about 70% of anything you wrote while attending school.”  She said, working to keep eye contact with him. She wasn’t going to let him win this little game.

He brushed lightly along her jaw with the back of his fingers, and she jerked away.  “No one said you could touch me.” She told him firmly.

“A Study of the Arts of Genius and Charm.”  He cited the name of her report, and she blushed just a little.  “You seem to have great respect for my power, little mudblood.  I wonder if you know how telling a report can be about the writers over the subject?”

“Is that why I’m here?”  She said happily with how steady her voice sounded.  He was still standing so close, she could feel his breath on her face, and she couldn’t get up unless he wanted to knock into him.

“What I saw in that report made me very curious to know more.”  He agreed. “And I must admit to enjoying what I have observed so far.”

“This is a repetitive tactic you’ve used throughout your years at Hogwarts and after.”  She started feeling facts help her fight the annoying urge to push up out of the seat so she could move her lips closer to his.  “Make someone feel as if they are special to you. How many of your followers thought they were the only ones to understand you truly ?”  She asked with narrowed eyes.

“All of them.”  He admitted with a bemused smirk.  “But you literally know more about me than anyone else alive.”  He pointed out. “Even those most loyal that were with me from the very start did not have access to things you must have dug up.”

“Dumbledore did a lot of the legwork.”  She admitted as she remembered finding his researching on Voldemort.

“Of course he did.  He was trying to stop me for decades, but  _ you _ are the reason I’m here.”

“Harry defeated you.”  She pointed out the blush slowly heating her face as she wasn’t used to people giving her credit for the work she put in behind the scenes.

“It has come to my attention that  _ boy _ wouldn’t have survived his first year if it wasn’t for you.”

“You’re doing it again.  What do you want? Do you think this little... Obsession act is going to sway me?  Do you think I will ever believe that you could respect someone like me?”

“Would you like to feel my respect, little mudblood?”  He asked his smile, turning the meaning into something very different than the surface of the words.

“I don’t buy it.  I could see how much it bothered you when I sat down.”  She countered smugly. “What’s wrong? Don’t like muggleborn invading your personal space?”

His eyes went blank as if he could flick a switch and turn off all expressed emotion.  It seemed to Hermione the reaction said more than it hid. He was hiding his reasons from her, which only supported her theory that his hints at flirtation were all an act to make her feel special.

He grabbed her by the arm in a sudden move and pulled her onto her feet and against his chest, so she had to look directly up to keep eye contact with him.

Without a word, his free hand settled on her waist, and he pulled her against his form more thoroughly.  Her heart was pumping in her ears, and her body curved into the length of him. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked away, but his hands held her fast.

“You disgust me.”  She hissed as she struggled in his surprisingly strong arms.

“You didn’t seem so disgusted when you allowed me to run my hands all over your pretty little form.”  He reminded her seeming to enjoy her fight.

“I’m getting married!”  She bit out which probably wasn’t her best argument.  She should have pointed out that she only let him touch her to dry her off.

“To an inferior.” He said as he hand moved to the small of her back.

“I didn’t think there  _ was _ anything lower than  _ my kind _ ?”  She spit as she started to push on his chest.  How was he so easily keeping her in his grasp? Did Voldemort exercise down in this small cell?

“I had thought we had already established that you are exceptional? You would not be worthy of my attention; otherwise, my dear.”

“And I thought we had established I wasn’t falling for your painfully obvious manipulations?”  She growled and tried to stomp on his foot, only remembering at the last moment she didn’t have shoes on.

He laughed and tossed her aside suddenly.  She tripped over her feet but caught herself on the side of the cage before she could fall on her face.

“Tell me about the fiance.”  He ordered as he took a seat where she had just been sitting.

She turned to face him still breathing hard from the fight only to see him perfectly composed.  “I’m not giving you anything that could get someone hurt.” She reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He summoned his chair closer to the bed and motioned for her to take a seat.  She paused a moment before accepting the offer. Only once she was sitting did he speak again.

“Keep to thinks that won’t get him hurt.  What do you like about him?” He asked, looking smug.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but wasn’t one to break a deal and couldn’t see the harm in answering his question.

“He’s smart, organized, brave, and kind.”  She said with her chin out.

“What a boring answer.  Organized comes second on your list of traits that make your body burn?”  He asked, mockingly. “What is his specialty? Is he as ambitious as you?”

“I’m not ambitious; I just want to help people.”  She said, shaking her head.

“That is a sort of ambition.  Did you think it was a dirty word because it's known as a Slytherin trait?”  He asked, still mocking.

“He’s a historian by trade.”  She said, rolling her eyes and not dignifying his other question.

“A historian?”  Voldemort chuckled.  “Is he a  _ muggle _ ?”  He asked with an edge to his voice.

“No.  He’s a wizard.”


End file.
